


Patterns

by rosecake



Category: Bloodline (TV 2015)
Genre: Backstory, F/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 12:40:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11851776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosecake/pseuds/rosecake
Summary: Danny leaves Islamorada all the time, but he always comes back.





	Patterns

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SegaBarrett](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SegaBarrett/gifts).



Chelsea couldn't remember the first time she met Danny. He was always around, as far back as she could remember, just as constant a part of her life as her family or landscape. 

He was always around, until one day he wasn't.

\-----

She does remember the first time he came back. The first time he left he didn't manage to stay away for that long, only a little over a year, but she was young enough at the time that months felt like years. By the time he came back around she felt like she'd changed into a whole new person.

"Hey, Cece," he said. Casually, like he hadn't been gone for months. "Is your brother home?" 

"No," said Chelsea. She never had any idea where he was these days. "You can wait here for him if you want, though." 

"Thanks, but I bet I can find him," he said. He turned to leave, and he was halfway down the yard before she realized she had more she wanted to say.  
"Danny? Danny, wait," she said. He stopped and turned to look at her. "I'm glad you're back in town. I missed you."

He grinned at her, and the familiar expression made her heart do a little flip. "What would you miss me for?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. It just felt like something was missing without you around."

"You're too fucking sweet for your family," he said. He was the only person she could think of who would ever call her sweet. "I missed you, too."

Then he was gone again, looking for her brother.

\-----

He was there and then he was gone again, an irregular presence in her life. Over the years there was no rhyme or reason to his comings and goings, no pattern that she could figure out, except that he always came back eventually. Sometimes he would stay away for so long that she'd think _this is it, this time he made it out for good,_ but she was wrong every time.

Once, when she was married but was trying to pretend for just one weekend that she wasn't, Danny took her down to Key West. 

It was late, and the sun had been down for hours, but the air was thick with humidity and it kept the heat trapped. She'd taken a shower in the morning, another one after she got back from work and was waiting for Danny to show up, and she'd probably need a third one before she managed to sleep. There was a slight breeze coming off the ocean, strong enough to reach the patio they were sitting at but not strong enough to help any with the heat. 

"I hate it here so fucking much," she said, pressing the glass of ice water she'd asked for along with her beer to her forehead. It helped some, but the ice had already half-melted before the waitress had even dropped it off at their table. "Why do all the tourists come in the summer? It's fucking miserable."  
"You know I made it as far north as Minnesota once?" said Danny.

"You're fucking kidding me," said Chelsea. She'd never made it as far as Miami. 

"It was the middle of winter, too. I spent a week snowed into my apartment, nearly went fucking insane, and then I fucking gave up came back down to Florida. It's too much fucking effort up there." 

"It always takes so much effort to leave," she said. "I don't know how you keep managing it." 

"Well I never seem to make it very far these days." He looked out over the ocean, where the waves were lit up with the reflection of the bar's lighting. "You could always leave, Chelsea."

She sighed and put her glass of ice water down. "It's not that easy."

Danny took her glass and fished out the biggest ice cube, pressing it up against her neck. She sighed, leaning into the touch, and the cold water felt even better against her neck than it had against her forehead. 

"It's not really that fucking hard, Chel. I managed it."

"Yeah," she said, even though she wasn't really sure about that. He left, but he always ended up right back in Islamorada. He'd never really managed to escape. "I'm not you, though."

"I mean, you don't have to leave. But you could," he said. "I've got something lined up in Miami, you could come with me."

"I've got so many things going on here, Danny."

"I know. You're always so responsible," he said, dragging out the last word, and she's not entirely sure if he's teasing her or if he's angry or what. He was doing that thing where he went totally unreadable on her. And really, she wasn't responsible, she was a near total fuck-up, but that sort of thing was relative when you kept the kind of company Chelsea did.

He drove her back to Islamorada the next day, and then he left for Miami the next week. This time he came around to say goodbye before he left. He didn't always - sometimes he just left town with no warning, and she'd have to figure it out alone when he didn't come around for a while and stopped answering his phone. 

It took her too long, but eventually she did at least manage to leave her husband.

\-----

The next time Danny was in town she wasn't married anymore, and so the second he started flirting with her she dragged him to the bedroom to fuck him. They'd had sex before, but it was the first time they'd ever done it totally sober, and it felt different. More deliberate, more meaningful.  
"I think I'm going to stay this time," he said, speaking softly into her neck as they were curled up together.

"Good," she said. "I like having you around." 

She didn't really believe him, though. In the end, he always left again, and she was fine with that. If she weren't fine with it, with the uncertainty of it, she'd tell him to get lost. In fact, it was probably for the best, because as much as she really did like having him around, she wasn't sure it was actually good for him to be there. In Islamorada he was too close to his family, surrounded by them without ever really being included. 

Still, even though she knew it was for the best, it was hard to listen to him tell her goodbye again.

\-----

She liked it best when Danny was happy, because of course she did, that was how it was supposed to go with the people you love. But she was also fine with it when he was sad. She got it. Nobody was happy all of the time, not unless they were faking it, and it got old having to play along with that kind of lie all the time. That was part of why she never really got along with any of the other Rayburns.

So she was fine with it when he got down, but she wasn't fine with this shit, not when he showed up at her house in the small hours of the morning with bloodshot eyes and nervous energy coursing through him. He had a split lip, still wet with blood, and she couldn't remember him ever looking this terrible.  
"What the fuck did you do to yourself this time?" she said.

"Nothing," he said, rolling his head like he was trying to get a crick out of his shoulder. "Nothing, nothing, I just wanted to see you, CeCe, alright? It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Yeah, well, it can wait until you've sobered up."

He edged past her into the house, and she moved out of his way. _I'm too old for this shit,_ she thought. 

"What makes you think I'm not sober?" 

"I'm not fucking blind, for one." 

He laughed, and she usually liked it when it when he laughed, but there was an ugly undercurrent to it this time. "No, no you're not." 

If he were just fucked up, that would be one thing. She could help him with that. But he's in the fucking kind of mood where he doesn't want to be helped, he just wants to make things worse. 

"If you want to sleep, you can sleep here tonight," she said. "I'm going back to bed." 

"I'm not tired," he said, going through her cabinets. He pulled out two glasses and a bottle of vodka, which was probably the last thing he needed. "Come on, Chelsea, play with me." 

"No," said Chelsea. "If you want to get more fucked up, you can go do that somewhere else." 

"Do you want me to leave?" he asked, pouring vodka into both glasses. 

"Yes." 

"Well, I don't want to," he said. He downed his glass and held out the other one to her, gesturing for her to take it. She declined to take it from him, and after a minute he shrugged and downed her glass, too. "I like it here, Chels." 

The clock told her it was a little past three in the morning, and her shift started at six. She didn't want a bender, and she didn't want the stupid fight she was in for when she didn't go along with Danny's desire for one. 

"Well, fine," she said, grabbing her keys. "I hope you fucking enjoy yourself." 

It was her house but she left, got into her car and drove to the hospital early. She parked in the back, changed into the spare scrubs she kept in the trunk, and then curled up in the back seat and told herself she was going to get some sleep before her shift started. Instead of sleeping, though, she mostly stared at the roof of her car, trying to keep her mind clear. 

The nice thing about working at the hospital was that it kept her too busy to think much.

Danny was gone by the time she got home. He didn't leave a note, and he didn't call her afterwards, because he never did when he was gone. When he left Islamorada it was like everything he left behind ceased to exist for him until he decided to come back. 

The next time she saw him again two years had gone by.

"Hey, CeCe," he said, smiling at her like nothing ever happened. Like no time at all had gone by. "Did you miss me?"

For about ten seconds she considered telling him to fuck off, but the truth was, she had missed him. She'd worried about him, had hoped he'd show up at least once so she'd know he wasn't dead. 

"Yeah," she said. "Maybe a little."

\-----

It was late, and she was pretty sure they'd both like to be asleep, but it was the middle of the summer and it was too hot to sleep. Her shitty little A/C unit was doing it's best, but it wasn't any match for the oppressive Florida summer.  
"You picked the worst time of year to come back," she mumbled.

"I know," he said. "But it's not like it's any better in Miami."

They lapsed into silence again. It was too hot to have sex again, too hot to simply sleep, too hot to even really think of anything to talk about. 

"Do you know what I like about you?" said Danny. 

"No," she said. "Tell me."

"You're so fucking easy." 

She kicked him in the leg. Not anywhere near hard enough to hurt, though. "I'll make you sleep outside," she warned.

"I didn't mean it like that," he said, laughing. "I meant it like you're easy to get along with."

"Yeah? You too," she said. 

And that's not really true, because there were times when just being around him was an uphill hike, but it was just so easy to forgive him every time. 

"I'm going back to Miami in a few days," he said. He put his hand on her thigh and gently stroked, and she started to think that maybe it wasn't too hot to fuck around again after all. "I've got something lined up. I think it's going to work out this time."

She'd heard that before, more than once. But every time he said he sounded so sincere that she couldn't help believing him. 

"I'm happy for you," she said, kissing him on the forehead. "And I'll be here whenever you come back around."


End file.
